


Taxonomy

by 8ethespider8itch



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: And not as a slur, It's only used once tho, Q slur, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7737916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ethespider8itch/pseuds/8ethespider8itch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin Gilbert was an organized woman. Everything in her life was sorted and labeled, from her underwear drawer to her work notes to her sexuality. That is, until one Dr. Jillian Holtzmann showed up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taxonomy

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse the format and any errors, I typed this all up on my phone in one go! I'll come back later and edit as needed.

At seven am an alarm sounded from Dr. Erin Gilbert's cell phone. A cheery but generic tune chimed as it vibrated across the bedside table. When Erin signed and rolled over she read the greeting. "Good morning! Time for work!" Rubbing her eyes, she climbed out of bed and was in the shower by 7:03. Lather, rinse, repeat. Her shower was over at precisely 7:15, and she made sure to wipe both feet on the bath mat before returning to her bedroom to dress. Bras and underwear from the top drawer, panty hose from the next down. A light weight pencil skirt and button down blouse from the summer section of her wardrobe. She always buttoned from the bottom up, finishing at the tiny bow on the collar before stepping into a pair of low, nude heels and heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. Eggs on Monday, Toast on Tuesday, Waffles on Wednesday, Strudel on Thursday, Overnight Oats Friday, Leftovers on Saturday, Brunch with colleagues Sunday. Each package was labeled and dated in the fridge and freezer alike.  The eggs fried in a tablespoon of margarine and three cranks of salt as she hummed Manic Monday to herself, smiling and sipping some iced coffee from the pitcher in the refrigerator. Perfect. 

This was her routine. The same routine, in fact, that she'd followed diligently since her undergrad years. Wake up, shower, make coffee. Read the paper. Take the 8:00 train. Sit on the left side. Annotate yesterday's notes, from the Blue notebook, not the Red. Arrive at work. Granted, this was where the variety began. Now a Ghostbuster, Erin's day was filled with research and busting, not lectures and theory. Still, when she arrived at the firehouse at 8:27 am, she sat down at a workstation where everything was labeled and placed precisely, and pined over the handsome receptionist across the room. Everything was organized, routine, labeled, right down to her sexual preferences. A neat, organized taxonomy to keep her life in check.  

Jillian Holtzmann waltzed downstairs around ten am, wearing coveralls and slippers, several crumpled sticky notes clinging to one arm for dear life. "G'morning ladies and gents," she said, leaning on Erin's desk and taking a sip of her coffee (cup number two, poured at 9:02 am). "Made some interesting breakthroughs on the trap last night. Seems the ghosts end up in Hell, Michigan, oddly enough. I did say 'go to hell,' never realized they were the literal type..." She trained off and winked at Erin. "Bet they're having a hell of a good time over there, eh?" Erin snorted and grabbed her coffee back good-naturedly, gulping the rest and rolling her eyes. 

"There's a pot of coffee in the kitchenette, Holtz. Your mug is out." She handed Holtz her mug. "Refill me?" 

Holtzmann snagged the cup and swung it around her index finger by the handle. Erin resisted the urge to chastise her, breathing deeply. Holtzmann's category was Reckless, just as Abby's was Adventurous and Patty's was Historical. No need to get pushy when Reckless got results, even if Holtzmann's antics made Erin's head spin. 

"Two sugars, two tablespoons cream," Holtz said, returning with the cup and placing it exactly where it belonged, to the top left of the Red notebook. "Not that you need that much sugar, you're plenty sweet enough." She winked, and Erin felt her cheeks get hot. 

This was where the taxonomy didn't quite work. Like a platypus, Erin wasn't quite the mammal she expected to be. Sure, she was still attracted to Kevin, who was now in the kitchenette trying to brew tea in an empty flowerpot. But something about Dr. Jillian Holtzmann threw Erin for a loop, causing awkward blushing and heart palpitations like she'd never experienced. She sipped her coffee (perfect, as usual) and busied herself with her Red book, sneaking glances at Holtzmann all the while. 

Holtz was leaning over Patty's shoulder, chomping Pringles more loudly that was strictly necessary or appropriate. She was listening to a recording from their precious bust, nodding and rolling her shoulders as if it was music. She seemed to feel Erin's stare and shimmied in her direction, and Erin smiled weakly before returning to her calculations, chastising herself for not focusing on the matter at hand. 

At 11:47 Erin took her lunch break with Abby every day. They ordered Chinese on Mondays, and Erin always got bean curd and broccoli. Sometimes Patty joined them. Holtz usually just picked off Erin's plate, perching on the arm of the chair she Erin liked, the red leather one with the cracks. She was learning not to mind this. 

Today, Benny stuck around to chat after the delivery. Apparently, one of his buddies had a bit of a thing for one Dr Jillian Holtzmann. Erin felt her ears burn hot and focused on her broccoli and not swatting Holtz's fingers when she snagged a baby carrot. It hung between her teeth like a limp cigarette and Erin smiled grudgingly. 

"He's a good guy, got a bartending job a couple blocks down, I think you'd really-" 

Patty cut Benny off with a laugh. "Baby, Holtzy here tells me she's 'as queer as a three dollar bill,' and that's not a word I'd use without her say so. She ain't interested in your boy, I promise." 

Erin looked up at Holtz, who was nodding and swallowing a mouthful of sprouts. "I've used the word lesbian before too," she said, licking her lips. "I usually just say gay, but I don't care too much about the particulars. Not as big on labels as Gilbert here." She slung an arm around Erin's shoulder in a friendly manner. Erin tried hard not to look embarrassed. A sticky note fell in her lap. "Two sugars, two tablespoons of cream." Holtz snatched it back easily and stowed it in her breast pocket. "Gotta add that to the recipe book later, hot stuff. Later all!" She hopped off the arm of Erin's chair and headed back up to her lab. This was Erin's cue to get back to work, and she headed over to the whiteboard behind her desk to get started. 

Erin had never had much of a dinner schedule. Dinner, and everything after, happened as work allowed. If the girls wanted to grab drinks, she was down. If everything was done at 3 pm, she was ok with that. If she was still working at 4 am, there were goldfish crackers in her bottom right desk drawer and Holtz always offered up Ramen noodles. Tonight was a noodle night, with Holtz stirring the pot of boiling soup and dumping in whatever veggies were left in the mini fridge from Abby's lunch. "We need a better kitchen!" she called to Erin, who was sprawled on the couch scouring Abby's math for something that was eluding her. Erin peered over the back of the couch. Holtz was dancing, hips rolling as she stirred the pot in front of her. A heat crept up Erin's chest and into her face, flushing patchy red as it went. Holtz saw her watching and turned the stove off, moonwalking to the counter to get bowls. "Dinner is served," she announced. "Just be careful. It's got as much heat as your hair dye." Erin smacked Holtzmann in the arm and served herself before throwing herself back on the couch, legs up. 

"Best move those legs," Holtz warned, cocking an eyebrow. 

"There are two perfectly good chairs!" Erin protested. Holtz just stared at her.

"Five..." She counted down. "Four...three..." Erin bent her knees with a sigh and a roll of her eyes and Holtz plopped down beside her, grinning. "Knew you'd be it my way."

They ate in companionable silence save for Holtz slurping noodles between her teeth. As Erin drank her broth, she watched Holtzmann put away pasta like a garbage disposal. "Hey Holtz?" she asked absently.

"Mm?" Holtzmann responded, mouth full.

"Bisexual...that's people attracted to men and women, yeah?" 

"Sure. Right there in the root of the word. You've got your bi and your sexual. Not a lot to clarify there, Erin." Holtz kept eating, obviously comfortable enough with the topic, so Erin pressed on, heart hammering. 

"Doesn't that leave out an awful amount of variables? It seems like you'd be depending pretty heavily on the gender binary." She tried to seem off-hand, but there was a catch in her voice.

Holtzmann looked at her thoughtfully."Well, that's more of an etymology issue than the actual meaning. It's more about being attracted to your own gender as well as additional genders. But if that doesn't fit your hypothetical needs, there's pansexual," she answered eventually. "That's for folks who don't really care much about gender one way or the next. People are hot, gender is complicated, let's just do this thing."

Erin shook her head slowly. "Ok, that makes sense. But it doesn't take into account preference, or fluidity. There are still too many variables. They're both good options, but it still doesn't fit." She had abandoned casual and was looking intently at Holtz now. 

"Well," Holtz said in a mock-serious tone, leaning toward her. "You could always try something a little more daring."

"What's that?" Erin asked. Her palms were sweating.

"You could just be Dr. Erin Gilbert," Holtz paused to brush some sweaty hair from Erin's cheek, "and leave the labels to your formulas." 

They were much closer together now, and Erin could feel her heart beating as if it were climbing to her mouth, physical impossibility though that was. Daring, huh? What would a daring Erin Gilbert do? Her head swam and she swore Holtz winked. Trying not to think about labels or boxes or the smirk on Holtz's face, she threw caution to the wind and kissed Jillian Holtzmann square on the mouth. Holtz, for her part, kissed back when she got over the shock. Flirting with the awkward hot girl at the office was all well and good, but kissing her was much better. Erin pulled back and licked her lips nervously. "I've been meaning to do that, but I think I should have asked?" It came out a question. "I'll ask next time, I promise."

Holtz laughed. "Daring Erin Gilbert just kissed me!" She punched the air like she'd just won rock, paper, scissors for pizza toppings against Patty. "You don't have to ask. If you ever want to do that again, you go right ahead." 

Erin didn't answer. She thought for a second, calculating, and kissed Holtzmann again. This time for longer. Analyzing where her hands belonged, sliding up Holtz's waist and along her collarbones and behind her neck before settling in her curls, tugging when she felt teeth nip her lower lip. Holtz untied her bow and unbuttoned her from top to bottom, lips plastered to Erin's throat, mumbling something disparaging about "world's tiniest bowtie" before Erin pulled her hair, angling her for another kiss. Fingers tangled in Holtz's hair, she let herself linger pressed forehead to forehead, making comfortable eye contact. "What even is this?" she asked just above a whisper. 

Holtz laughed huskily. "It's Dr. Erin Gilbert, being sexy and daring and kissing Dr. Jillian Holtzmann. If you're looking for labels, I like the term 'girlfriend' an awful lot." Erin nodded and laughed. Dr. Erin Gilbert, daring girlfriend. She liked the sound of that. 

 


End file.
